


The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins

by multipurposetoolguy



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, Gen, Humor, M/M, eternal thanks to leonard nimoy for gracing us with this cute little song, its just pure cuteness okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 07:33:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4697588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/multipurposetoolguy/pseuds/multipurposetoolguy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years after Bilbo has gone there and back again, he goes on a perfectly normal outing to the market for breakfast supplies. Until people are singing songs about him as he innocently shops for groceries and suddenly it isn't so perfectly normal anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladysassafrass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladysassafrass/gifts).



> Yep, you read that right, this is a oneshot about the wonderful little ditty called "The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins" by the legendary Leonard Nimoy, may he rest in peace. It's also based off the tumblr url of my dear friend [Margo](http://theballadofbilbobaggins.tumblr.com/), who I'd like to say for the record is thordalf trash. 
> 
> I would like to point out that I've left out a verse of the song, because it describes hobbits to the human listeners so I figured the hobbits wouldn't need that bit. I also took out the line about 'the ring he stole', since he didn't tell anyone about that. Aside from that I left it as is! 
> 
> Hope you like it Margo, and I hope everyone else does too! :)

The pleasantly warm mid-morning of April the 27th found Bag End tinged golden and the shaded grass of the front porch cool and damp underfoot. Under Bilbo Baggins' feet, to be precise, as he stood on his stoop, an empty cloth-lined basket in the crook of one elbow and the late spring air filling his lungs. Keeping his pantry as well stocked as he liked it meant frequent trips to the markets, but he didn't mind too much. It was nice to get out and stretch his legs every so often, and when the weather was this nice he found he really couldn't complain.

That particular morning had found Bilbo with a craving for his mother's spiced apple porridge and not an oat to be seen in his larder, so he took advantage of the cool breeze and set off down his front steps towards the ever-bustling Hobbiton Market. The short walk there had been as pleasant as the first few steps out of his smial, and before long the soft chirping of birds perched in trees along the path was replaced with the lively chatter of farmers bartering for vegetables, spouses laughing conspiratorially together at whatever the Diggles had said at the West Farthing Brunch that week, and children shrieking as they ran circles around the many stalls and tables.

It was as wild and rowdy as hobbits could be on a daily basis, save for birthdays and wedding celebrations, and it warmed Bilbo's heart to see it. Having lived through encounters with every storybook monster imaginable made the scene before him look like a particularly boring city council meeting, but the fact that market days like this were the highlight in hobbit excitement made Bilbo a very happy hobbit indeed. The more sheltered and isolated the Shire was, the better, in Bilbo's humble opinion.

He wandered lazily down the aisle, in no particular hurry, and he hummed in satisfaction when he spotted Maybell Bracegirdle's display of grains at a nearby table. He smiled and stepped closer to peruse the bags of oats and wheat quietly to himself, trying to think on if he was also running low on flour or not when he felt rather than saw the hobbits nearby tense up, whatever conversation they were having trailing out into a murmur and ending abruptly with several polite coughs into closed fists. Bilbo sighed. It's true, the Shire hadn't changed between when he left for his grand adventure and when he returned from it, and while in every other respect that was a blessing, the once respectable, well-endeared master of Bag End was now widely known as Mad Baggins, whispered disapprovingly behind hands and handkerchiefs. It didn't bother Bilbo as much as he thought it would; if taking a once in a lifetime chance to open your heart to the world and come home with it having grown a few sizes -to come home alive _at all_ \- made one mad, then Bilbo would be the first to admit that he was as good as a hatter. But surely these well-meaning gentlehobbits could spare him their suspicions and disapproval long enough for him to go round and get the groceries?

He shook his head and, picking up a large bag of the oats he'd been looking for, put on the most non-threatening expression he could muster. He turned to Maybell to pay for his goods but was stopped at the mention of his name, punctuated with laughter. He looked around for the face behind the voice, and blinked in steadily growing confusion when he found that it had been the voice of a fauntling, no older than 10, leading a small group of her friends through the market street.

Again the young hobbit girl shouted his name, loudly but not peace-breaking in the din of the commerce around them, and Bilbo just gaped like a fish in poor Maybell's face before ducking behind her stall, nearly upending a barrel of cornseed in his haste. Now she _definitely_ thinks I've got one loose, he thought, but he'd told the faunts hundreds of times before. No stories until after second breakfast _at least,_ no exceptions. If he'd been spotted and had to be subjected to their pouting looks of absolute and utter despair when he told them no, he'd eventually give in and relent and then where would he be? Losing what little time he had to himself to troops of insatiable fauntlings pounding down his door at all hours, that's where.

Peering up over the table and between the sacks of grain he slumped in relief when it became evident that they hadn't spotted him. He made to stand back up and go pay for his oats like a _normal, sensible hobbit_ when the faunts stopped in their trek and gathered around in a loose circle just in front of the stall opposite Bilbo's hiding place, out of the way of passing hobbits, sending him crouching back down and kicking himself for the pain he'd inevitably be getting in his knees later.

He was in the middle of hatching a safe escape route back to Bag End when his attention was drawn yet again to the faunt-circle.

"Can we do the song? I love the song." A young girl asked, hugging a stuffed toy to her chest.

"No, I want to do the goblin bit! Mum took my sword away but I found another one, hid it under the porch!" A little boy with mud on his face and in his wild blonde curls was brandishing a short stick like a sword, making the fauntlings nearest him shriek when they nearly got hit.

"We did that bit just yesterday, I haven't heard the song in _weeks!"_ Another little boy with mouse-brown hair and freckles on his nose complained, the young girl nodding enthusiastically in agreement. Before the little warrior or anyone else could respond the girl who'd first shouted his name piped up in song, the others joining in once it was clear that they were, in fact, doing the song.

"In the middle of the earth, in a land called the Shire, there's a brave little hobbit whom we all admire," She sang with a smile on her face, the boy with the stick picking up where she left off with a sigh and a smile of his own.

"With his long wooden pipe, fuzzy woolly toes," They all stuck their feet up and wiggled _their_ fuzzy woolly toes together at that, "Lives in Bag End and everybody knows him..."

Bilbo paled white as a sheet. _Oh no, no no no **no**..._ He clenched his eyes shut, and the faunts continued louder than ever.

"Bil-bo! Bilbo Baggins! Only three feet tall!"

He thunked his head against the tabletop. He couldn't decide if it was a relief or unfortunate that they hadn't heard him and subsequently stopped their singing. _And I am exactly three feet and five and three fourths inches tall, a very average and respectable height for hobbits, thank you very much, cheeky little-!_

"Bil-bo, Bilbo Baggins! Bravest little hobbit of them all!" Bilbo let out the irritated breath he'd been holding and couldn't help the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Alright, maybe he _wouldn't_ pinch all their ears silly when next he saw them.

The faunts giggled and shoved at each other as they sang on, the next verse coming proudly from the freckled boy, who'd stood up and placed a reverent hand across his heart as his friends only giggled louder. "One day Bilbo was asked to go, on a big adventure to the caves below. To help some dwarves get back their gold, that was stolen by a dragon in the days of old."

Bilbo's smile grew as the boys friends pulled him back down to sit, all of them singing what Bilbo assumed was the chorus in a clamor of young voices.

"Bi-bo! Bilbo Baggins! Only three feet tall! Bil-bo, Bilbo Baggins! Bravest little hobbit of them all!" They were getting so boisterous that several passers-by had turned their heads as they passed, looking mildly perplexed and scandalized before continuing about their business in their distinctly Hobbitish way. At least _somebody_ liked him, he thought, and he felt a bit more pride swell up within him at his more colorful title around the Shire.

"Well he fought with the goblins!" The muddy boy leapt up and slashed his stick left and right, the others crying out in delight.

"He battled the trolls!" The freckled boy sang proudly, eyes closed in solemnity.

"He riddled with Gollum," The little girl sang, making her toy creep and crawl around in the air to a fit of laughter.

"He was chased by wolves!" The first girl growled, making the freckled boy jump.

"Lost in the forest," The younger girl was now piling handfulls of grass and twigs on top of her stuffed companion.

"Escaped in a barrel from the elf-king's halls!" The muddied boy thrust his 'sword' in the air in triumph.

Bilbo was downright grinning now, watching them take such glee from his adventure. The way they told it really did make him sound like a hero... Bilbo snorted. He could think of a few people who'd just _love_ to never let him live _that_ one down. The faunts, not privy to his musings, sang on, bellowing the chorus together again.

"Bil-bo! Bilbo Baggins! Only three feet tall!"

"-like me!" the young girl proudly declared, and Bilbo didn't feel like correcting them anymore.

"Bil-bo! Bilbo Baggins! Bravest little hobbit of them all!"

The clamour had died down now, as it seemed they were coming to the end of their song. Bilbo found that he couldn't even feel the ache in his knees as he watched them.

"Now he's back in his home in the land of the Shire, that brave little hobbit whom we all admire." They were all quieter now, all nodding their heads at the conclusion of their tale. "Just a-sittin' on a treasure of silver and gold, a-puffin' on his pipe in his hobbit-hole."

Bilbo huffed from his vantage point. When he found out just _who_ was spreading around that he was sitting on some kind treasure trove, oh they were certainly getting an earful, and no biscuits with their tea the next time they came round. He deflated back into that absurd amusement though at the last, ringing chorus of four small hobbit voices raised for a 'hero' that was currently hiding behind a vending table peeping between bags of grain.

"Bil-bo! Bil-bo Baggins! Only three feet tall!" If Bilbo sang along softly to the last line under his breath, well, no one had to hear of it now did they. "Bil-bo! Bilbo Baggins! Bravest little hobbit of them all!"

The faunts fell into a fit of giggles as they all tried to hold the last note the longest, and as they all stood and scampered after each other, the muddy one shouting something about catching frogs down by the moors, Bilbo slid a few coins onto the tabletop for the oats and made his escape, shaking his head and smiling fondly.

He hummed a particular little tune the whole walk home.

  
\--------------

  
Back inside the sheltered interior of Bag End Bilbo was stood in front of the counter, spoon-deep in a thick helping of spiced apple second breakfast.

"Have you had an exceptionally exciting day here making oatmeal?" A deep voice rumbled from behind him, and he hummed before taking the spoon from his mouth and leaning back into the embrace of the thick arms that wrapped around his middle.

"Oh you don't know the half of it," Bilbo said, tilting his head and twisting slightly to give Thorin a light peck on the cheek. Thorin spun him in his arms casually and leant down for a proper kiss but stopped with a huff when Bilbo reached up and dabbed a dollop of porridge onto the tip of his nose. Bilbo grinned up at him like a tomcat and Thorin narrowed his eyes playfully.

They both turned their heads at a thud from down the hall and, not disentangling himself from Thorin's arms he called, "Frodo?"

"Ye-es....?" Came the slightly reluctant reply, his small voice unsure if he was in trouble or not.

"Have you been telling the other children that I've got gold and jewels filling up my hallways?" Thorin snorted into Bilbo's hair.

Silence, then, "no.....?"

Frodo was _definitely_  not getting biscuits with his tea. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please drop me a comment or a kudos if you liked it, let me know this silly thing was alright! :D


End file.
